I thought I had hit Blog Writer's Gold last night when I came home from dropping Henry at Cub Scouts and found The Accountant literally attached to one of the kitchen cupboards by climbing rope. Yes my husband of nearly twenty years was practising looping his climbing rope through a carabiner and back out again. It was like being in a Lars Von Trier film or something. He was smirking as he noticed me quietly enter the kitchen and watch this bizarre activity.
"What the..."
"Yes well I have to do a bloody exam to get a climbing gym membership. And I'm thinking of changing my clipping technique. Do I do it the old way..." he clipped the carabiner hanging from the kitchen cupboard "...or this way?", he clipped the carabiner again - in exactly the same manner.
"But, you just did the same thing twice."
"No! They are two very different clipping techniques".
All this was done at eye level. And yet the climbing rope was tied to his waist. Where did he think he was going to fall? In front of the dishwasher? And then hopefully have to accidently unpack it?
So in one room was little Jonty watching Makka Pakka. In his bedroom was Rufus talking to himself and his action men. And The Accountant. Practising clipping technique in the kitchen. I suppose having me add to the equation making contemporary dance between hanging out washing is not so mad after all.
God I hope he passes the climbing exam otherwise it will be unbearable.
Monday, 27 May 2013
Sunday, 19 May 2013
Namaste
But I do feel bereft. I also know exactly how she felt as she looked around with tears in her eyes and thanked everyone for their part in making the class special and welcoming. It was me leaving my own dance classes all over again. I nearly cried with her then and there. "Don't do it" I wanted to tell her, gripping her arm in a fever of desperation "This is as good as it gets". However, I kept it all inside (as we are taught to do) and gave her a hug and wished her well.
As one door closes though, another standing posture opens and by Monday evening I was in the above pose and feeling good. But my back was bloody sore on Tuesday.
Saturday, 11 May 2013
Pamper & Play
Now I've seen everything. A beauty spa where mothers can obtain all manner of therapies whilst their babies and toddlers are looked after in a creche. Sounds like heaven I suppose if you are an exhausted mother with no time for anything but cooking, cleaning and nappies. But in reality I don't know a lot of my friends with children who would be able to afford the luxury of getting a massage with childcare thrown in.
Me. I just want a bloody job. I'm so envious of all those working mothers at school looking so slick in their very un-mumsy clothes. About to swan off in their own cars, listening to music of their choice. Or reading the paper on the train or even just walking along at their own pace without having to retrieve a thrown dummy, toy or blanket every few steps. But then again they are probably all sitting in offices looking out on a sunny day wishing they were at the park. Or having a raucous coffee with other mums, toddlers in tow and moaning about the usual plethora of parenting dislikes - mess, sleep deprivation, eating and bedtime.
A modern parenting annoyance is too much television or related electronic devices. The problem is we invented these bloody machines, then gave the technology to our children to keep them quite for five minutes. Now everybody is getting angry because the little blighters won't give it up. I know the feeling because I went through a Lara Croft phase back in the day when you inserted the CD into your computer and used my gigantic keyboard to make Lara hop, skip and jump through all sorts of adventurous and literally bloody violence.
On any given night you can hear me becoming annoyed as the dinner hour approaches: "Henry! Dinner! Now" and Henry (equally annoyed) "One minute! I'm in the middle of this game...Oh now you made me lose..."
Now where is the phone number for Pamper & Play....
Me. I just want a bloody job. I'm so envious of all those working mothers at school looking so slick in their very un-mumsy clothes. About to swan off in their own cars, listening to music of their choice. Or reading the paper on the train or even just walking along at their own pace without having to retrieve a thrown dummy, toy or blanket every few steps. But then again they are probably all sitting in offices looking out on a sunny day wishing they were at the park. Or having a raucous coffee with other mums, toddlers in tow and moaning about the usual plethora of parenting dislikes - mess, sleep deprivation, eating and bedtime.
A modern parenting annoyance is too much television or related electronic devices. The problem is we invented these bloody machines, then gave the technology to our children to keep them quite for five minutes. Now everybody is getting angry because the little blighters won't give it up. I know the feeling because I went through a Lara Croft phase back in the day when you inserted the CD into your computer and used my gigantic keyboard to make Lara hop, skip and jump through all sorts of adventurous and literally bloody violence.
On any given night you can hear me becoming annoyed as the dinner hour approaches: "Henry! Dinner! Now" and Henry (equally annoyed) "One minute! I'm in the middle of this game...Oh now you made me lose..."
Now where is the phone number for Pamper & Play....
Tuesday, 23 April 2013
Poker Face
Does anyone else get emails from Heathrow Airport? No I thought not, just me then. Very strange that they always seems to think I want to hang out in their airport. They try and colour the emails with pictures of happy, smiling people going about their business at Heathrow. I think that if I was going to Heathrow, it would be for the end destination really, not just to shop and have a coffee at the bloody airport.
I also get emails from "100 Black Men". They always want me to join their marches and read their leaflets. Fair enough.
"The Ukelele Orchestra of Great Britain" are constantly sending me emails about their gigs. And ironically I always get emails from Financial Institutions who are under the impression that I actually know what a P&L sheet looks like.
Going to a Girl's Poker Night on Saturday night. Will try and illustrate my next blog with a photo of me totally trashed with a giant cigar in a seedy-looking smoky room full of hookers. No? Really? That's obviously a Boy's Poker Night. This will be a bunch of well-dressed middle-class ladies (mums really) eager to get out of the bedtime ritual and sipping lovely cocktails.
It is true about the cigars though. I was slightly concerned about how high the gambling stakes would be, given the demographic of Camberwell. And me with my mummy/dancer income - I mean one cancels out the other really. Then I found out we would be gambling with Lego. Seriously - Lego.
I'm just going to have to go and sort these girls out on Saturday night - Oxford style. I'm thinking Sharon Stone circa Basic Instinct (frightening really) and the very savvy Daniel Craig as 007 in Casino Royale.
I also get emails from "100 Black Men". They always want me to join their marches and read their leaflets. Fair enough.
"The Ukelele Orchestra of Great Britain" are constantly sending me emails about their gigs. And ironically I always get emails from Financial Institutions who are under the impression that I actually know what a P&L sheet looks like.
Going to a Girl's Poker Night on Saturday night. Will try and illustrate my next blog with a photo of me totally trashed with a giant cigar in a seedy-looking smoky room full of hookers. No? Really? That's obviously a Boy's Poker Night. This will be a bunch of well-dressed middle-class ladies (mums really) eager to get out of the bedtime ritual and sipping lovely cocktails.
It is true about the cigars though. I was slightly concerned about how high the gambling stakes would be, given the demographic of Camberwell. And me with my mummy/dancer income - I mean one cancels out the other really. Then I found out we would be gambling with Lego. Seriously - Lego.
I'm just going to have to go and sort these girls out on Saturday night - Oxford style. I'm thinking Sharon Stone circa Basic Instinct (frightening really) and the very savvy Daniel Craig as 007 in Casino Royale.
Friday, 19 April 2013
Multi-tasking
The other night I was cooking dinner whilst making up that evening's Hip Hop routine (if only they knew!). I was singing along to Lil' Kim's Lighter's Up and Rufus wanted to know what the song was about. "You know when you're at a gig Rufus, and you're all singing the tune and the crowd puts their lighter's up in the air (and wave your arms like you just don't care...)" He looked at me blankly.
While this was going on I was helping Henry with another task and every now and then had to run outside and kick the ball with Jonty otherwise I hear "MA! BALL!" constantly. At the same time I was cleaning out lunch boxes and putting another load of washing on, emptying the dishwasher and ensuring the house was tip top. Why? Because The Accountant comes home early on a Thursday so I can go out and earn my keep dancing around to Lil' Kim. I was also hosting a morning tea the following day and did not want to wake up to the usual disaster area after my night out working.
Everyone makes jokes about women multi-tasking. But I'm not totally convinced that it is a talent of the fairer sex or just plain necessity that has us running from one thing to the next, wooden spoon in one hand, laptop in the other and yoga kit in the bag and ready to run for the door should the opportunity arise. It also explains why I often hear the male members of yoga classes snoring away in the relaxation period at the end of the class. I find it a very useful time to go through My List, every now and then trying to bring myself back to the present and breathing (it's always the breathing...) but really I'm thinking about the fact the Rufus' school uniform is dirty and can no way be clean and dry in time for the morning.
I received a very threatening and aggressive email from Rufus' gymnastics club regarding the late payment of Term 2 fees. Don't bother paying them now, they smugly stated, you probably won't have a place anymore. And don't bother turning up either as we will have worked our way down the long waiting list blah blah blah. What the ? Why don't they just shine a light in my eyes and ask my whereabouts last Monday at 3:25am? Who are these people anyway? MI6 might need these administrative skills in London.
Anyway I know some people, who know some people who might go in there and and do some finger pointing and middle-naming so don't worry I've got it sorted.
While this was going on I was helping Henry with another task and every now and then had to run outside and kick the ball with Jonty otherwise I hear "MA! BALL!" constantly. At the same time I was cleaning out lunch boxes and putting another load of washing on, emptying the dishwasher and ensuring the house was tip top. Why? Because The Accountant comes home early on a Thursday so I can go out and earn my keep dancing around to Lil' Kim. I was also hosting a morning tea the following day and did not want to wake up to the usual disaster area after my night out working.
Everyone makes jokes about women multi-tasking. But I'm not totally convinced that it is a talent of the fairer sex or just plain necessity that has us running from one thing to the next, wooden spoon in one hand, laptop in the other and yoga kit in the bag and ready to run for the door should the opportunity arise. It also explains why I often hear the male members of yoga classes snoring away in the relaxation period at the end of the class. I find it a very useful time to go through My List, every now and then trying to bring myself back to the present and breathing (it's always the breathing...) but really I'm thinking about the fact the Rufus' school uniform is dirty and can no way be clean and dry in time for the morning.
I received a very threatening and aggressive email from Rufus' gymnastics club regarding the late payment of Term 2 fees. Don't bother paying them now, they smugly stated, you probably won't have a place anymore. And don't bother turning up either as we will have worked our way down the long waiting list blah blah blah. What the ? Why don't they just shine a light in my eyes and ask my whereabouts last Monday at 3:25am? Who are these people anyway? MI6 might need these administrative skills in London.
Anyway I know some people, who know some people who might go in there and and do some finger pointing and middle-naming so don't worry I've got it sorted.
Sunday, 7 April 2013
Hot Honey and Lemon
Which would you rather? Sitting in a stuffy office with people you do not particularly like - or pushing this little one on the swing on a sunny day? Yes of course I have my ups and downs ("Henry get OFF the top of the washing line" "WHO unrolled all of these toilet rolls...." "Jonty! Get your finger out of my lipstick" etc etc etc....), but on the whole I am aiming for a bit of mummy and a bit of Nickely.
Parents are always in a race to get some "me" time. The Accountant would like to have time to himself for most of the day, and indeed he is always snatching cheeky little moments of isolation. However, I like to get things done and then relax after the children have gone to bed. So you can imagine what a nasty surprise it is when I finally put my cup of tea on the bedside table and open to covers only to find a small child grinning up at me. The idea of booking myself into a hotel for a night suddenly becomes very appealing.....
Meanwhile here are a few of my favourite things from the Easter break:
- Easter Egg hunts - all six of them!
- Going to the beach and swimming in the pool in Queensland
- Not making dinner every night (thanks Russell!)
- Reading Harry Potter - again.
- Coming home to all of my lovely female in-laws (clean house, cheerful cups of tea, childcare, children playing nicely together).
- Meeting up with our niece Jasmin today - aged 17 and absolutely rocking a leather jacket, jeans, bronze top and boots in Degrave Place for lunch.
- Eating a gluten, dairy and vegan free lunch and it was bloody delicious!
Things that were not so good:
- Everyone except Henry got sick as soon as the holiday started.
- Jonty on the airplane with ear and throat infection, Rufus and I with colds - sore ears!
- My aim on holiday was to give myself a pedicure and nice new nail polish. I came home with chipped, un-manicured toes with bits of bright yellow nail polish from weeks ago. Not a good look in strappy sandals and flip flops.
Sunday, 10 March 2013
Physical Jerks
Ever since I have known The Accountant he has been devoted, almost obsessed, with his current physical activity. First it was rock climbing. All over the world he climbed, and I sometimes, rather naively followed. I remember sitting knitting on the foggy Yorkshire moors whilst my boyfriend scaled rocks only 8 feet from the ground. This is called Bouldering. It takes all day apparently.
France was more to my liking. Katy and I could go walking and bike-riding, visit vineyards and lunch in gorgeous villages in Provence. Australian rock climbing expeditions were just plain hot. And we always seemed to run out of water in the middle of nowhere.
It was with some relief on my part when The Accountant became really serious about yoga. You do not need much kit with yoga. And you can practice in your own home. But did this stop The Accountant from once more embarking on a serious practice? It did not. And so to London a couple of mornings a week at 4:00am for two hours Astanga practice before work. And a brief flirtation with meditation soon after Henry was born, in which The Accountant and German Tom would sit in our garden for an hour and not say one word to each other. Good times.
Now the latest physical activity requires no ropes, no mats, no classes or even human contact. Just running shoes. But not just any old running shoes! The house is slowing filling up with running "equipment". How much stuff does this sport need? Apparently everything under the sun. And The Accountant has stopped watching normal TV in favour of running documentaries and little videos showing exactly how the arch of the foot should be when it hits the ground. Eye-wateringly boring but it seems to do the trick, because The Accountant now does funny little jogs around the house testing these tips afterwards. Much to the amusement of three little boys who think it is time for chasing Poppa.
Nanny Sue came to stay last week, and as it is very hot at the moment, I thought I would go for a walk before sunrise. The Accountant had the same idea and was very enthusiastic that I should join him on a lovely morning outing together - which never happens. I was much cheered by this until he said "Let's go now! You can video me running!". Never what it seems is it?
France was more to my liking. Katy and I could go walking and bike-riding, visit vineyards and lunch in gorgeous villages in Provence. Australian rock climbing expeditions were just plain hot. And we always seemed to run out of water in the middle of nowhere.
It was with some relief on my part when The Accountant became really serious about yoga. You do not need much kit with yoga. And you can practice in your own home. But did this stop The Accountant from once more embarking on a serious practice? It did not. And so to London a couple of mornings a week at 4:00am for two hours Astanga practice before work. And a brief flirtation with meditation soon after Henry was born, in which The Accountant and German Tom would sit in our garden for an hour and not say one word to each other. Good times.
Now the latest physical activity requires no ropes, no mats, no classes or even human contact. Just running shoes. But not just any old running shoes! The house is slowing filling up with running "equipment". How much stuff does this sport need? Apparently everything under the sun. And The Accountant has stopped watching normal TV in favour of running documentaries and little videos showing exactly how the arch of the foot should be when it hits the ground. Eye-wateringly boring but it seems to do the trick, because The Accountant now does funny little jogs around the house testing these tips afterwards. Much to the amusement of three little boys who think it is time for chasing Poppa.
Nanny Sue came to stay last week, and as it is very hot at the moment, I thought I would go for a walk before sunrise. The Accountant had the same idea and was very enthusiastic that I should join him on a lovely morning outing together - which never happens. I was much cheered by this until he said "Let's go now! You can video me running!". Never what it seems is it?
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